Related To Him
by Greenwood Dancer
Summary: Serena Montaya has been having recurring nightmares of the Dark Lord since she came to Hogwarts. What do they mean? When very strange things start happening to her, who will be the one to care? Please R&R!


"_No!"_

I sat bolt upright in bed, my body shaking violently as I recalled my nightmare. Sweat was running down my face as I forced myself to slow my breathing.

"Serena? Are you all right?" Hermione was standing at the side of my bed and I turned to her, still trembling. "You were having a nightmare again. Are you _sure_ you don't want to see Madame Pomfrey?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm fine, Hermione; it's only a few bad dreams," I replied. My breathing had slowed with my friend's presence and the cool air coming in through the open window was turning my fearful shivering into cold shivering.

"Serena, I really would feel much better if you'd at least talk –" Hermione started, but I cut her off.

"I told you, Hermione. I'm not going to the hospital wing. Do you mind letting me change? I don't suppose we have too much longer before breakfast is over," I said, changing the subject as quickly as possible. My nightmares had been on both of our minds lately ever since they had started getting worse. I didn't particularly feel like rehashing everything that was entailed in them all over again in my mind right now.

With a sigh, Hermione let it go. "All right then. I'll wait for you in the common room," she said, turning away and leaving the dorm.

I groaned as I threw the covers off me, wrapping my arms around myself as I ran over to my trunk. The winter air was coming through the window violently now, chilling me to the bones. I made a mental note to start wearing heavier nightclothes instead of my slinky, black camisole and boxer shorts. This wasn't a fun way to start the morning, though it did wake me up considerably.

I sifted quickly through my trunk and pulled out my uniform. As I changed hurriedly, my mind couldn't help but wander back to my nightmare.

It was true that they had gotten worse lately. Actually, it was only one recurring nightmare, but Hermione didn't know that. I had never told her anything about my dreams. They didn't make any sense, and I knew Hermione. If she knew anything about them at all, she would start searching everywhere she could find for the answers. I didn't want that. After all, it was just a nightmare, not a mystery waiting to be solved. Right?

Maybe I wasn't so sure about that part.

What I was sure about, though, was that the dreams were coming more often now. They had started six years ago, when I got to Hogwarts. At first, I hadn't even connected Hogwarts to the nightmares, but after having them for so long and learning more about the school, I came to realize it wasn't just a coincidence.

When I first started having them, they came only once every few months. Then, over the years, it became every month, and then a few times a month. Now, they were coming a couple times a week. It wasn't so easy to brush the dreams off as odd nightmares now to the girls in my dorm. Sometimes I was able to stay silent when I awoke, but not always, and they had been becoming more intense and realistic. Hermione had caught onto the pattern and I could only wonder how many of the other girls also thought I was crazy.

I headed to the mirror near my bed as I recalled my dream once more.

It was always the same, but I had distinctly noticed the feeling of reality in it growing over the years. That was part of what was beginning to concern me about these night terrors. Sometimes it felt as though I was actually _living_ the dream.

I've come to realize certain things about my nightmares over the years as well. I'm now able to recognize the dark figure before me as Lord Voldemort. At first, I thought perhaps I was having nightmares about him from fear, but then, after thinking harder about it, I came to the realization that I'd been having the dreams before I knew who he was.

The dream began with me walking through a heavy fog, my wand ahead of me, shedding dim light on the ground. I can't tell where I am exactly, only that it's nighttime and I know there's someone with me. I'm walking in front of the person, though, as though I'm protecting them.

Then, I hear a twig snap in front of me and my head jerks up. I find myself staring into the cold, snake-like eyes of Lord Voldemort and my heart seems to freeze. It's already chilly outside, but now I feel as though someone has poured ice water down my shirt.

Voldemort's Death Eaters begin to surround me and whoever I'm with, trapping us inside a circle with the Dark Lord. I'm frozen, holding my wand before me pitifully. I know that if Voldemort wanted, he could easily disarm me, but he hasn't, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder why.

Suddenly, two Death Eaters grab my friend and a male voice cries out, letting me know that I'm with a guy. I think, perhaps, my friend might be Harry, since he has had the most dealings with Voldemort, but the voice didn't sound quite like his.

In any case, the frightened cry snaps me back into reality and I hold my wand stronger before me. Voldemort's lips twist upwards in a distorted smile, his black cloak almost blending him in with the dark fog. He takes a step towards me, and though I have a strong desire to back up, I remain where I am.

"You are strong," he says, his voice dripping with evil. He penetrates my eyes with his cold ones and I hold the gaze. Actually, it's more of a glare, but I can't imagine that detail means much.

When I don't reply, he smirks, taking another step towards me. "Your power is great," he continues. My heart is beating so loudly that I'm sure he can hear it. However, I still don't move from where I'm standing, even as he nears.

My friend calls my name, but it barely registers. I'm frightened, but then, I also feel capable. Almost as though I can take him, which I don't understand at all, since I obviously can't.

Suddenly, I hear my voice. It doesn't sound like me at all, almost like I'm hearing it third person. However, lately, it's sounded more like me, as though I was actually saying it.

"I know," I say. My voice is strong, though my body's on the verge of trembling. "I know what you want. You can't have it."

Voldemort gives me his chilling smile. "I think you're mistaken, Serena. I don't want the power. I want you. Join me. We could work together as partners. I offer you power and position; do you accept it?"

"No. I'd rather die than join you," I snarl. I can hardly believe my own nerve as my lip curls at the thought of spending the rest of my days with him.

"Think about your decision before you make it, Serena. Join me and I can teach you to use your power. Decline my offer and I will take it from you," Voldemort replies. His voice is growing cold now, and it sends chills down my spine.

"I already know how to use it. You'll never have it or me," I reply harshly. My wand is still before me and my friend is now struggling against the Death Eaters, calling for me.

"We'll see about that," Voldemort says, his smile gone. Now his gray face shows nothing but evil hatred as he raises his own wand and points it at my chest.

Just as he opens his lips to speak a curse, the nightmare ends. That's how it always ends. I wake up trembling and shaking, just as I had that morning. It's hard to accept such a chilling and disturbing dream as a mere nightmare, especially one that has now been haunting me for six years. This is why I have told no one about it. I know eventually I will probably have to resign to telling at least Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but I'm putting that off for as long as possible.

With a sigh, I concentrate on my appearance in the mirror. I grab my brush off my end table and run it through my dark hair. My hair is naturally wavy, but not so much that it's annoying. It falls to just below my shoulder blades and frames my face nicely. I don't think I'm extraordinarily pretty, mind you, but I don't suppose I'm too bad looking either. My eyes are crystal blue, a color that fits every emotion perfectly. I'm average in the height regard, about 5'6", and slender. I suppose my proportions are alright, though, like probably half the girls in this school, I wish I had a bit more up top.

I never wear make up unless it's a special occasion; I just don't have the patience for it, especially these days. Some girls say how much better I would look with some eyeliner, but I honestly don't care. As long as I don't look hideous, who cares? It's not like I was trying to impress anyone anyway.

I set my hairbrush back down on the table and turned from the mirror. I grabbed my bag and left the dorm, descending the steps to the common room. Hermione was there, sitting in a chair by the fire, just like she said she would be. I could always count on her.

"Are you ready then?" she asked. I nodded and she stood. There was still a hint of concern in her eyes, but I pretended I didn't see it.

"Let's see if we can catch the last of breakfast before Charms," I said, leading the way out of the portrait.

A/N: I hope you liked my first chapter. I'll try to update soon. Please review, or I won't post again! Thank you.


End file.
